


healing: achieved underground

by dappledleaves



Series: alternate universes [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Dreams, Comparing a Dictatorship and a Rebellion, Distrust, Dream Smp, Gen, Guilt, Life in Pogtopia, Lost Friendships, Musical Instruments, No Dialogue, Pogtopia, Pogtopia!Quackity, Poison, Self-Esteem Issues, Suspicions, When he joined them I was SO happy, character study with plot, manburg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27249211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dappledleaves/pseuds/dappledleaves
Summary: The point is: (what is the point? He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Why is he pretending like he’s thought this through?)The point is: Wilbur holds power too. Quackity is going from one ruler to another - and he is absolutely okay with that. Any ruler that isn't Schlatt sounds fucking fantastic right now.Or, Quackity joins Pogtopia expecting a rebellion, and finds a home instead.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & GeorgeNotFound, Alexis | Quackity & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Alexis | Quackity & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Alexis | Quackity & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: alternate universes [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013103
Comments: 108
Kudos: 527





	1. golden flags

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've become obsessed with Quackity's character on the Dream SMP recently, and this fic is the result of that. The next chapter will be posted either today or tomorrow!
> 
> A massive thank you to the mcyt writers server on discord for so many brilliant ideas :D
> 
> All the people in this fic are based on the characters they play on the SMP, not their real life selves. I hope you enjoy!

Quackity doesn't know what to expect when he switches sides.

He doesn't know, so he guesses: more of the same. More rules, timetables and meetings. More instructions, guidelines, and commands. He may be the Vice President - well, ex Vice President - but Schlatt isn't the type to take advice, deciding on a system of structure, then lying through his teeth as he calls it freedom.  
  
Quackity’s votes offered Schlatt the chance at power. Will he ever forgive himself for that? Will anyone else?   
  
He’s grown used to only having power in his title, and little more. He’s grown used to the suggestions which are merely orders in disguise. He’s grown used to not saying a word whilst the people - his people - live unhappily under the government. 

He has no reason to believe that Pogtopia will be any different. They have a leader, just like Manburg does, so the idea that Wilbur too will have some sort of hierarchy within his rebellion makes sense to him. Quackity knows that he won't have any power in Pogtopia; it's not like there is a vacancy in the Vice Presidency position where he's going. He doesn't even think they _have_ a Vice President, instead there's whatever Tommy's always boasting about. A Right hand man?  
  
The point is: (what is the point? He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Why is he pretending like he’s thought this through?)

 _The point is_ : Wilbur holds power too. Quackity is going from one ruler to another - and he is absolutely okay with that. Any ruler that isn't Schlatt sounds fucking fantastic right now.  
  


He doesn't think it's unfair to say that if his expectations are like a piece of paper, then Pogtopia tears that paper right out of the book, and crumples it up in it's fist. And then sets it on fire with a flint and steel for good measure.

One word to describe it would be chaos. A busy, welcoming chaos. The staircase down into the ravine lacks any wood - purely just stone mined away. There are chests scattered everywhere, torches on the walls as makeshift lanterns, and weapons left lying around. He sees shelves of disorganised medical supplies (of which there are not many), and there is a smell of baked potatoes in the air. People move about, not yet noticing Tommy or the newest recruit he's brought with him - except for Wilbur, standing in the middle of it all, perfectly at home in the disarray. He looks up from the book in his hands, waving first at Tommy, and at Quackity when he sees him behind a little ways behind.

Quackity expected more of the same. But now it's clear - Pogtopia is nothing like Manburg. In fact, it's so different that Quackity isn't sure how they're ever going to win. Manburg has schedules, has plenty of resources; this rebellion is a group of people living in a ravine. 

Okay. Okay. He can do this. He can make this work. If Pogtopia has to become a little bit more like Manburg in order to get their home back, then Quackity is going to make that happen.

  
  


He takes his notebook out of his pocket and turns it over in his hands, glad for something familiar.

Even during his time as the Vice President, he always had as much work to do as everyone else, and he'd taken to writing a list at the beginning of each day, as a sort of way of proving himself. He could show off his list, each item ticked off - and call it evidence that he was contributing to Schlatt's vision of what he belived Manburg should become. Quackity had kept his thoughts on whether or not he agreed with this vision to himself. 

He flips through all of the old pages, seeing sentence after sentence of ideas for improving Manburg - improvements that came to be. He should start writing a list now. Pogtopia is like a new project: a diamond in the rough that he's determined to shine until it reaches it's fullest potential.

So. They only eat potatoes here. Quackity almost trips over nothing when he’s shown Techno’s underground farm; the sheer size of it all is something that amazes him ( and leaves him a tadnervous at his dedication.)

He borrows a quill and flips his notebook open. Potatoes are a good start, but surely everyone would appreciate a little more variety in their diet?

His quill pauses on the page.

He thinks of the banquets Schlatt would hold for his cabinet: the long tables of dark oak, the polished cutlery, the divine food. Eating baked potatoes in a cold ravine shouldn’t compare to that - and yet. Biting into one fills him with a warmth that makes the chill in the air feel incredibly unimportant, and he finds that he can’t quite mind the change in atmosphere.

  
He’s quickly wanting to get rid of his suit: it feels odd, going from a country where everybody is wearing one, to a place where he stands out because of it. Wilbur is more than willing to lend him some clothes when he asks - and he smiles at the trench coat he is handed, the same as the one Wilbur always wears. The sleeves are a little to long, so he rolls them up once, twice, and then he’s good to go. He’s part of the rebellion, and Tubbo gives him a thumbs up, telling him he looks the part.

Quackity pulls a serious face, says something about getting down to business. Tubbo is laughing, and he feels lighter, somehow. 

He tosses his suit onto the fire. His tie follows suit. They burn, quickly, easily, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it - the fact that this suit, a representation of Manburg, something he’d devoted so much of his time to - could be destroyed just like that.

He tries not to dwell on it for too long. 

  
  


He props up a board against one of the smoother cave walls - and he cannot help but feel a little proud. They'll thank him for this.

This, being a timetable. Quackity's been spending time noting down the strengths and weaknesses of every member of Pogtopia, and from there he’s worked out who is best suited to the various tasks that need achieving to keep this rebellion running smoothly. He’s confident that he’s documented almost everything: carrying messages, mining ores, guard duty, farming, cooking, negotiating with Manburg. Everyone has their own column; everyone is accounted for.

He asks for Wilbur to hear him out. It’s a good start when he agrees to - more often than not Schlatt would say he was too busy to listen, pointing him in the direction of George or Tubbo instead. But Wilbur has agreed, so he leads him to the board and jumps into explaining his idea.

Pogtopia could be much more efficient with this. Which is why he’s so surprised when Wilbur thanks him for his effort, but turns the idea down. Not because he doesn’t think it would work - but because they are not Manburg. They are fighting to get away from Schlatt’s tyranny, but doing this: taking away the freedom of choice when it comes to what jobs they do - could just create another Manburg, under different rule.

Wilbur says it doesn’t matter that he was a president once - because he isn’t one anymore. He has no authority over these people, no power to take a schedule and make it compulsory. Even if he wants to do this, he can’t.

And Quackity - can’t quite tell if Wilbur does want to do it or not. If he’s glad to not have that power, or if he craves it. He thinks of the room full of tnt, and the button that Wilbur almost pressed.   
  
That had nearly been the end of them all. Whoever Wilbur had become in that moment, Quackity’s glad that he still listened to them when they promised there was a better way. Well - he thinks it was probably just Tommy that got through to him. He’d only just swapped to Wilbur’s side minutes earlier, so he doesn’t believe he would have trusted him that quickly.

Quackity wonders: does Wilbur trust him now? Does he want him to? The answers for those questions aren’t ones he can reach right now, so he lets it go. So the timetable won’t work - that’s okay. He’ll think of something else.

But for now, it’s back to trying to fill up the empty pages in his notebook, and finding other ways to help. He's think's that he's only useful, only wanted here, if he finds a way to help.

He’s spending the day assisting Tubbo in taking stock of all their supplies, and considering their uses.

It would be easy to lose himself in the piles of books, the scratching of quills against paper, the smell of ink filling his nose - but he can see Tubbo glancing over at him every few minutes. Quackity wonders if he’s considering him too, trying to figure him out. He wonders if he’s done this for everyone: silently forming an opinion on who around him can be trusted.

The glances stop eventually. Quackity wants to ask what Tubbo’s verdict was - but he doesn’t dare.

  
  
  


He finds Techno tucked away in a corner, sharpening his axe. The repeated sound of friction between diamond and stone is reliably constant, and oddly calming.

He calls out to him. Techno’s eyes flit up to him for a moment in acknowledgment before refocusing on his task. He tells him not to worry about sorting the farm out today - that he's taken care of the replanting.

The sharpening stops. Techno asks if he's replanted all of it. Quackity, after a moment, tells him yes - he did - and Techno sighs.

Quackity is confused. He thought Techno might enjoy the break; just doing it today had taken hours. But apparently he enjoys it - and oh god, has he just made an enemy? 

The shine of the axe in Techno's hands is suddenly terrifying, and Quackity excuses himself with an apology before he can say anything. Okay. Don't touch the potatoes, write it down, _write it down._

Tubbo comes sprinting down the stairs, darting around him with a grin and wave.

Tommy shouts - everyone should get out of the way - and his voice is half lost in a laugh. Quackity barely has time to press himself back against the wall before he’s zooming past. Wilbur and Techno, without even looking in his direction, step out of the way - like they’ve done this a thousand times. Maybe they have.

Tommy calls over his shoulder, telling him to be more careful. 

He gives a mock sigh, shaking his head. He has the fattest ass in this rebellion: he deserves some respect.   
  


He's in Manburg. This isn't a good idea. He knows it. Why is he here? 

Well - he knows why. He knows there's a book on advanced potions at George's house - remembers spending afternoons there during the election, while George threw himself into reading for hours on end. He remembers sitting through his passionate speeches; times like these are when George will push his goggles up onto his forehead, excitement clear in his eyes as he tells Quackity about all the plans he has for when they get elected - all the positive change the position of Vice President will let him bring. 

Perhaps that is another reason why Quackity shared his votes with Schlatt. To give George a chance to bring about the change he wanted. But then he became the Vice President and, well, he thinks he and George overestimated how much control the position would bring.

Secretary of State. The Cabinet. Vice President. All of them - meaningless, empty titles. The only one with true power is the one at the top. Because even though they all get to make decisions together, Schlatt gets to make his alone. Like, for example, creating an entire festival for the sole purpose of revealing Tubbo's position as a double agent. If he'd told Quackity, he wouldn't have tried to stop him (guilt), he might have even helped plan it all out (guilt) - but that's the thing. Schlatt never told him anything at all.

He wonders - maybe he even had a reason for tearing down the White House, but how was Quackity supposed to understand that? He didn't _tell him._

Quackity doesn't know when it was that he started to think: it shouldn't be this way. Was it when he destroyed the White House? Or the walls? Or maybe, just maybe, was it right at the start? Quackity had wanted to run for the Presidency, so that he could make it so anyone could enter L'manburg. Ironic, then, that the that the first thing Schlatt ever did - his very first decree - was to banish Wilbur from entering their borders.

Why didn't he say anything then? (GUILT.) Why didn't he stop him? (GUILT.) Quackity lets those questions fill his head, but any sort of answer is nowhere to be found.

He doesn't know why. But at least he's trying to make up for it.

Manburg is quiet. It seems the shock from the festival never truly lost it's grip on the land, and there is an uneasy sense to the air which leaves Quackity constantly looking over his shoulder. He just has to make it to George's house.

He could have - should have waited till night. But that runs the risk of George being home, and he can't see him. Not yet. He doesn't know what to say.

There's the sound of his feet against the ground But then, suddenly, he hears someone else's too.

Oh god. He’s been found. This really is a terrible idea. Who is it? How good are they at fighting? What kind of armour do they have? Who who _who -_

Karl. It’s Karl, in his multicoloured hoodie instead of one of the suits Schlatt insists his citizens wear. The lack of armour is strange to see, after living in the heart of the rebellion for a few months now. Instead of a bow in his hands, or a sword at his side, he’s carrying a stack of books. He looks: their spines are scuffed and worn out, the red colour of the leather faded into a lighter shade. 

Karl is gripping the books tightly. Too tightly to be anything but anger, or disappointment in him for joining their enemy; he’s probably going to call for backup - Quackity is going to get caught all because of some book -

Karl hisses his name. Schlatt is coming - Quackity needs to hide.

His eyes widen. He takes a step back, head turning as he tries to spot the President, tries to guess how long he has to run. He isn’t moving quickly enough, apparently, because Karl is dropping his books and tugging on his sleeve. They run down the oaken path; it must have rained recently because he almost slips twice, but Karl’s grip keeps him steady. They’re heading for his house, he realises, when it comes into view. 

He dares look back. Just once. No sign of Schlatt yet.

They're in the house - _finally -_ and he slams the door. After a couple of deep breaths, he looks to Karl. Or he would have... but he's disappeared. He curses. This is a trap, isn't it? It has to be. He has to go. Schlatt probably isn't even outside, he can make a run for it - 

But right before he does, Karl slides into view at the top of the stairs. Bundled in his arms is something blue. It... doesn't _look_ like a weapon. The grin on his face is reassuring, too, and so Quackity takes comfort in the weight of his crossbow slung across his back, but does not reach for it. 

Karl tells him that after he'd quit his job as Vice President and ran away to join Pogtopia, Schlatt had ordered his house to be torn down. Karl's voice is apologetic as he says he helped - but he managed to sneak in and grab something before the project started. He's sorry - he couldn't have grabbed more or someone would have noticed - but Quackity can hardly care because he's holding out his hoodie.

White stripes, over deep blue.

Something from before all of this: from before Pogtopia and Manburg and the elections. It's what he wore when he arrived in Dream's SMP, looking for somewhere to call home.

Karl's apology is cut off when he hugs him tight. He doesn't know how many times he thanks him, and Karl squeezes his shoulder, glad he could help.

Eventually Quackity makes another run for George's house, and Karl joins him. The book on advanced potions in on the exact shelf he remembered it to be - and he wraps the hoodie around it like it's a package. He came all this way for it, there's no way he's risking it being damaged. It's too important for the improvement of the rebellion.

Karl follows him all the way to the border of Manburg. Quackity steps into the boat he's made, but something makes him pause, makes him grip onto the edge of the riverbank. Karl asks him if everything is alright - is there something he's forgotten? He tells Karl that he can come with him if he wants to. There's room in the boat.

And after a moment of nothing but the sound of rushing river waters, Karl grins and gets in behind him. 

Wilbur asks why he brought Karl with him. They're both standing a little ways off from the crowd welcoming the newest addition to the rebellion. He says that he doesn't mind - he's just curious. 

Why did Quackity want to bring him? They already have enough on their plate with finding room for the people they already have. He doesn't know, but he tells Wilbur that it's because of the friends he has in Manburg, that Karl could endear them to their cause. Wilbur nods easily, like he agrees.

But then he's asking him what the real reason is.

And maybe Quackity does know the reason. Maybe he saw himself in Karl: unsure on what to do. He wanted to be what Tommy was for him when he asked him to be part of Pogtopia. He wanted to save someone.

He changes the subject. Now that he has his hoodie back, he tries to give Wilbur his coat - but he insists he keep it. Quackity doesn't object. Secretly? He thinks he looks pretty cool.

He goes round asking everyone for their spare weapons, and soon enough a pile of diamond axes, iron swords, and more are piled together in one of the newest rooms to be hollowed out, still empty and without purpose. Well it has a purpose now.

He admires the stand he's built - Techno agreed to help when he asked if he'd chop a tree with him - and begins to hand the weapons on the wall. Hanging them in order of effectiveness is the plan, so the strongest weapons will be closest to the door, easy to grab if they're attacked. When he's finished, or, nearly finished, he frowns. The final few weapons: a iron axe with the handle a little splintered, a golden sword that has blunted edges, a bow that looks like it could snap if he ever pulls it a little too hard. 

Okay, well, this won't do. He remembers that Wilbur has a meeting planned for tonight, just to check up everyone, and share news if anybody has any - but that's in a few hours. He has time to go mining for ores to replace these weapons. 

He puts the axe and the sword in furnaces before he leaves, as the materials can always be used for something else. The bow goes ono the fire, and then he's climbing down the ladders, going further and further underground to the mines.

Tommy pulls him aside after the meeting. He looks a little tense. 

He tells him that the weapons stand looks awesome - and the tug inside Quackity's chest is pride. It feels nice. 

But Tommy isn't done, eyes darting around like he's looking for something to comfort him, and not succeeding. He says that he didn't see his sword in there? He's wondering if Quackity's just forgotten to put it up or something.

The feeling that something is _wrong_ is quick to snuff out his pride; it's dying embers trapped in his throat. Tommy's asked him a question. About his sword? Surely it's in there with the rest of them, Tommy must have just missed it. It's understandable, it is pretty dark in there, he hasn't had a chance to put any torches in there yet - 

Unless. Unless he means - 

Oh no.

He asks Tommy - his sword wouldn't happen to be gold, would it? - and he winces at his eager nod. He has to tell Tommy what he's accidentally done. But it's just a sword, right? He can make him another one. A better one. But Tommy's face is crumpling, and he storms off without another word.

Only later, when he asks Wilbur, does he understand. Back when Pogtopia was just the two of them, surviving out in the wilderness, upset and scared and angry, that had been the first sword Tommy made, which he'd used to keep them safe until they became the rebellion they are today. Wilbur says he had a sword like that too, but he never held onto it like Tommy's held onto his. 

Quackity imagines how terrified they must have been. Banished from L'manburg - Manburg - he doesn't even know what to call it anymore. Leaving their home for the wilderness: for the cold and the dark and scary. Tommy must have felt so relived when they'd forged those swords; they could finally start fighting back. And Quackity has just taken that away from him, because he'd only saw an old sword, and never stopped to think about _why_ someone would keep an old sword for that long.

He wants to go apologise. Wilbur says he should give him a little time. He'll give him time, but he knows it'll never be the _right_ sort of time: the sort that allows you to go back and change the past. He would, if he could.

Sleep never comes to him easily, doesn’t take pity on him to pull him into a state of rest. On those nights - most nights - he leaves his hollowed out space, or the Quackity Corner, as Tubbo has fondly named it, to stay near the fire for hours until he drifts off. He never knows how long - it's hard to tell the time underground. 

That’s another project for his list then: a clock for one of the ravine walls. Or perhaps everyone should have a watch of their own. If someone is down one of the many winding tunnels, they won’t be able to hear the chime of the clock as clearly. 

Right. Okay. 

Tonight is one of those freezing nights. It’s no one's fault, really, but the wind blowing through the ravine hardly ever stops, and it’s cold. He’s just - cold, sometimes, and he cant stop thinking about it: about the breeze that echoes around them all, a silent witness to their rebellion, or the chill in his toes that he’ll get if he doesn’t remember to put on more than one pair of socks. The cold keeps his head full of thoughts, and it’s not like he can just turn them off. So he stays awake until the urge to curl up by the fire grows too strong, and he makes his way to it as quietly as he can.

The fire is larger than usual. Or is it? He’s sat here so many times now that every occasion blurs together, until the shape, size, and colour of the flames are impossible to figure out, and all that is left is the heat, warm on his face.

He yawns, blinks a few times. Weirdly enough, this time, he doesn’t even want to fall asleep. 

So gets up. He knows what he needs to do. The light from the fire dances along the ravine's walls, and it's enough to light his way back to furnace he'd smelted Tommy's sword in. As he expected, the sword's blade has melted down into liquid gold - but he has also left it too long, leaving it to harden again. Quackity seeks out a block of coal, and leaves the gold to become molten once again. He works on the mould he needs while it does so - his fingers work deftly in the firelight.

Once he has every he needs, he lets the golden liquid pour slowly, it's difficult to concentrate: the way that molten metal glows is beautiful, and when it ripples, the light it casts flickers on the walls around him. He almost wants to cup his hand to scoop it up, to let it slip between his fingers, but the heat it gives off that warms his face wards him off doing so.

He can leave it too cool overnight. Tommorow, he has to find Tommy.  
  


  
  


Tommy is quiet when Quackity seeks him out. He’s told Niki what he intends to give him as an apology, and her approval of the idea has given him confidence. He holds out his palm for Tommy to see. He’s holding a flag, just big enough to hold in his hand, made from the gold of Tommy’s sword. He tells him this, and he tells him he’s sorry, he knows this doesn’t make up for it but -

Tommy asks: this is really for him? Quackity presses it into his hand and nods. Tommy cups in gently, in awe, like it’s something precious - and to him, it probably is.

He knows that Tommy’s sword was one of the first things he made in Pogtopia. He just hopes, with this token, this flag, he can give him back a little piece of L’manburg. A little piece of home.

Tommy is smiling, and he rubs at his watering eyes. He clutches the flag tightly, and Quackity hopes - knows - they’re okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Again, the next chapter will be out very soon. Please let me know if you think there are any tags I have missed - I will be more than happy to add them.
> 
> Please let me know if you liked it! I thrive off of feedback. I hope you all stay safe and have a good day :))


	2. growing paranoia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn't dare put his wheat farm anywhere near Techno's potato crops, in case he takes it as some sort of challenge to see who can grow the most before the rebellion is over.
> 
> Well, Quackity knows he'd win, obviously, but he's far too busy for such things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! Hope you enjoy :)

The chest he’s holding is heavy in his hands; he staggers forwards slightly, and readjusts his grip. 

The bridges are narrow, not even wide enough for two people to cross paths. He knows this. They are made of oak planks, but they are not smoothed and sanded down like the one’s he’d decided on for Manburg’s buildings. He knows this too. Pogtopia does not have the time for the same level of attention to detail. Trees are chopped down with axes not designed for the task. Things are not built with beauty in mind - they are there to accomplish the task they are built for. So when Quackity trips - on two planks that overlap slightly - and sees nothing but down, down, into the ravine, down where he’s going to fall: he isn’t surprised. He’s terrified, but he isn’t surprised.

A handful of his hoodie is snatched, and he is tugged back away from the edge. The chest finally slips from his fingers, and it hurtles to the ground below.

The sound of it crashing - splintering into countless pieces - echos through the ravine. 

Wilbur sprints out of one of the corridors. His eyes travel to the remains of the chest, then up to where they are stood on the bridge. Quackity can see the relief on his face, something that he never saw on Schlatt’s, even after months of working with him. 

Tubbo hasn’t let go of him yet; he leads him back across the bridge, asking if he’s alright. And he is alright! It’s just that the cold keeps him awake so he stares at the flames for hours - and he barely gets any rest - and the chest was too heavy, and - 

He’s crying. He’s crumpling back against the wall, and he’s crying.

Tubbo wipes at his tears with his sleeve, it’s okay, it’s good he told them, it’s alright now. It’s alright. Quackity wants to believe him. He follows Tubbo’s example of taking deep breaths, and he wants to believe him. 

When he bids everyone a goodnight and heads to his bed, he finds a blanket that was not there before. It's a pale yellow, with bees of thread stitched on. It's heavy, and smells of lavender, and he loves it. It's his.

He's warmer now. He sleeps. 

The next day, he tries to go on like before, like he hadn't almost fallen off of a bridge. Wilbur takes a long look at him when he asks if he has any jobs he can do, and tugs him over to a quiet, empty part of the ravine. He pushes his guitar into Quackity's hands.

Wilbur says he's going to teach him how to play, he can't keep on doing nothing but work - he needs a hobby. 

It’s Tubbo, Quackity thinks, that understands him best. They are, as of now, the only two in Pogtopia who understand the experience of being in Schlatt’s cabinet. He too lived with the timetables and the meetings, so he knows how different being in the rebellion must feel for him.   
  
He wonders if Tubbo ever struggled with being a double agent, with the lies and spying and the living of two very different lives. He’s never asked him about it. He doesn’t know if anyone has. Tubbo is sat by the fire now, listening to Wilbur humming some song Quackity hasn't heard before; it’s a gentle tune, and Tubbo yawns every so often.

Quackity is glad he’s here. He’s glad he can rest. 

There are three adjustments that can be made to the recipe Niki is following that would use less of their supplies. Quackity doesn’t say any of them, and accepts the biscuits he is offered.

Tubbo and Quackity are sat on one of the bridges he designed (Wilbur suggests they change them after the chest incident.) It's the one closest to the ravine floor, but it's still high up enough that they can dangle their feet and now worry about bumping into anyone walking below. 

Quackity has Wilbur's guitar; he strums the same strings one by one, over and over: making a quiet tune. Tubbo raps his knuckles on the wooden planks, making a beat. Together the ravine is filled with music, carried by the wind, and Quackity is smiling.

He glances down, and those in the ravine - Niki, Tommy, Wilbur - are smiling up at them too.

Word reaches them that Schlatt wants a meeting.

Wilbur says - because as much as he claims he is not their leader, everybody looks to him for an answer anyway - that they should go. That they have to be careful in case it is a trap, but they don’t have much to lose by going to hear Schlatt out. Quackity wonders aloud if he could wants to discuss a peace treaty. Even as the words leave his mouth he knows he doesn’t believe in them, and he can tell nobody else does either.

He’s surprised when Wilbur calls out his name when picking a team to head to Manburg. It’s only if Quackity is up for it, he says. He doesn’t have to come. 

But he knows he can be useful. He knows Manburg - he’ll be able to tell if anything looks different, if there are any traps. He finds it easier to be brave when he has the knowledge that people are counting on him.

So he agrees to go. He’ll return to Manburg. 

Techno approaches him one morning, free from his crown and his cape, and he looks more content today than Quackity has ever seen him. He soon discovers that today is the day the potatoes get replanted, as Techno leads him down the passageway into the wide open space - filled with crops.

He takes a hoe made from diamonds off of the wall - which Quackity would say is a waste of resources in the hands of anyone but Techno. Which is why he's so surprised when he's handing it over to him, wondering if he wants to help. He's more than happy to help (and relieved he hasn't made an enemy of him after all), quickly pulling the potatoes from the ground and into an open waiting chest.

But then Techno is holding onto his arm. Quackity isn't doing it right, he says. He's treating it like a task that needs to be completed. 

He points his hoe out towards the rows and rows of green, saying that he should try seeing it as a break from work instead. Something to do when he needs to relax. And well - Techno looks serious about it, so Quackity gives it a try. He pulls up two potatoes with his dominant hand, then one with the other. He notices how the leaves have endless different shades of green: emerald, jade, moss, seaweed; for the shades he's never seen before, he tries to give a name. He and Techno work around eachother - like some kind of dance.

And he's having fun. He's enjoying himself. 

Gratitude fills his chest for Techno - who didn't just tell him to take a break, but found a way to show him he needed one instead.

The chosen party for the visit to Manburg isn't a big one. Wilbur leads the way with Tommy at his side. Quackity is in the middle of the group; his crossbow is drawn and loaded. Techno brings up the rear: covered in the best armour Pogtopia has, the strongest shield, and a couple of the potions that Quackity has made so far. He really should have listened whenever George started talking about them - but then again, he'd never known he was going to need that information some day.

Manburg doesn’t look that different. Which turns out not to be as good as Quackity thought it would be - because it means it still looks like home. The biggest change, that he can’t believe he didn’t notice the last time he was here, is the mess of land that used to be his house. Now it is just broken planks and crumbling stone. He pauses on the oaken path for a moment to look at it. Tommy and Wilbur keep walking - they haven’t noticed - but Techno stops with him and rests a hand on his shoulder.

A few seconds to clear his head. He breathes in sharply, rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie, and catches up to the others.

They avoid the gaps in the path easily - even when they all used to live there, the wood was constantly being chipped away at, stolen for other projects. It feels comforting and strange at the same time that it’s still going on. 

Walking out in the open means they’re going to be noticed. Sapnap and Fundy are the first to catch sight of them, pausing in digging up the ground and replacing it with dark oak planks as they walk past. Quackity waves cheerfully. Eret is looking down at a map in their hands when they pass; Quackity taps them on the arm and they jump: their expression of alarm visible even with their sunglasses. 

So it seems Schlatt hasn’t told his citizens about meeting with Pogtopia. He sighs. Schlatt’s making his decisions alone, as always.

Schlatt opens his arms in welcome. Quackity’s fingers twitch against the arrows in the quiver at his side. Wilbur goes to speak, but Schlatt walks past him, like he’s looking for something.

Oh. He’s looking at him.

Techno shifts when Schlatt gets close; it’s a reassurance, a reminder that he’s there. Quackity appreciates it, but he points his crossbow at Schlatt’s chest anyway.

The President smiles, but it’s too faint to mean anything real. He notes calmly that Quackity is still fighting with a crossbow - and how he’s always thought it was a coward’s weapon, for someone who’s afraid to let the danger get close.

They’re brave words for somebody surrounded by four now angered enemies. Quackity wants to pull the trigger. He _wants_ to. He’s not stuck here anymore, in his suit, following the rules Schlatt set out for them all. But he doesn’t deserve that. He deserves having to live and watch as Manburg is taken from him, just like he took Manburg from Wilbur. He deserves to lose - but losing like this, right now, wouldn’t be a satisfying enough victory. 

He smirks, like he knows the thoughts in Quackity’s head. He asks them to please, settle down - and to get the child under control, Wilbur - because he has news. He wants to introduce them all to his new Vice President. It shouldn’t be surprising when George appears, hand raised to his mouth as he yawns - like he’s bored by their conflict. It shouldn’t be surprising, because George was his running mate. If Quackity leaves - which he has - of course George will take his place. 

But it is surprising. George is standing where he used to. His suit matches Schlatt’s, and his tie is a dark stripe of red on his chest. There’s a pocket-watch in his hand that he keeps glancing to, obviously more interested in it than anything going on in front of him.

He nods back towards the way he came - there’s some blueprints Schlatt needs to approve before they can be delivered. Schlatt hums, discontent. He wants to stay and talk with these traitors - and Tommy and Wilbur are banished, are they even allowed to here? - but he agrees to accompany his Vice President. 

He waves goodbye to Quackity, who’s fingers finally let themselves loosen from his weapon. Wilbur is holding Tommy back, mouth pressed in a firm line. Techno sighs, glad it's over with.

He looks at the crossbow in his hands. A coward’s weapon, Schlatt called it. For keeping the danger far away. 

Tommy looks surprised when Quackity asks to train with him. But then there’s a moment of understanding and Tommy takes him by the shoulder, trying his best to tell him not to let what Schlatt said get to him. He won’t lie. It’s gotten to him a little. So he thanks Tommy for his concern - but he still wants to get better with a sword. 

Eventually Tommy sighs, and agrees. He’s handed a sword made of gold - and Quackity still feels bad about melting down the one that was precious to Tommy - but he pushes the guilt away, focusing on correcting his stance when he’s told to. Tommy leads him through different defensive positions. He teaches him about the advantages of having the high ground, how to block with a sword when you don’t have a shield, and even how to use the broken shards of a sword as a weapon once it has snapped.

He briefly mentions shields again: how they can be used not only to block an attack, but also to push your opponent backwards. He says they can discuss that more next time - and amidst the joy Quackity feels at the knowledge that Tommy wants to do this with him again, there is a moment of contemplation, a picture of a memory. Tommy and Wilbur, in the room with all of those signs. Watching Tommy use his shield to hold Wilbur back - keeping him from the button. 

And then Wilbur is there, not in his memory but right in front of them. Tommy tells him of their progress and Wilbur - says he is proud. 

Never once has Schlatt been proud of him.

Tommy grins, and says Quackity might just be ready for a real fight. Wilbur nods at this, shrugging off his coat, and picks up one of the other training swords they’d grabbed from the storage room.

He asks for the honour of a match. Quackity bows, and accepts. 

One moment they’re both fighting away laughter - the next they’re fighting each other. Wilbur is quick, darting circles around him. Quackity remembers Pogtopia’s early days, remembers hearing news that Techno had joined their cause and was training them himself. He has no problem believing that; he can see Techno in Wilbur's stance, in the way he holds his sword, in the way his eyes follow his very move. Quackity only has to take a breath, falter in one step, and Wilbur materialises in front of him, stabbing his sword forwards.

He deflects with moments to spare. Wilbur shouts a well done - and backs off.

Putting his back to the cave wall so that he can't try and circle him again, Quackity hardly wants to take a second to blink. Wilbur is tossing his sword between his hands, calling for Quackity to try attacking him; it might just be because he is new to fighting with a sword, but Wilbur doesn't seem nervous at all. His confidence is a little scary. He tries to remember Tommy's advice. There is no way of getting the high ground here, and surely, any tricks Tommy has taught him, Wilbur will know too. So: he holds up his sword, and says he wants a little more practice first. He jokes that he'll be ready to defeat him eventually.

But Wilbur only frowns, no, he _scowls._ Attack him, he shouts, this fight isn't over yet - 

Tommy is there. He grabs Wilbur's hand that's holding the sword, tugging it once - pulling his focus to him. That's enough, he tells Wilbur, firmly, who looks like he wants to object. He sighs at Tommy, shaking his head, and he complains that he just wanted to fight - how is Quackity going to get any better if nobody makes him challenge himself?

Tommy murmurs (more serious than Quackity has ever seen him) that Wilbur should hand over his sword. Eventually he does, laughing to himself like he finds this hilarious. Tommy sends him an apologetic glance as they leave. Quackity is reminded of the Wilbur from before: so certain he was in the right.

  
  


Later, Karl finds him, saying that Wilbur’s too busy to make it to their guitar lesson today. He thought he might be, but it’s still a little dispirited.

Niki is baking again. He doesn't think about the all the supplies being used this time - all he cares about the cake she's sliding over to him on a plate: victoria sponge, with little roses made of icing on top - and as he bites into it and the sweetness fills his senses, all he can think about is that the nice things, things like this, help make this fighting worth it. 

Life doesn't just stop because there's a rebellion going on. And if normal, everyday happiness can't happen during a rebellion that is there to fight for people's right to happiness and freedom - then what is the point of it at all?

He tells Niki how much he loves the cake, and makes a mental note to find space for a wheat farm so that she will always have the resources to keep on making it. 

One day: Wilbur sees him flicking through the pages of his notebook. It's a little awkward at first - Quackity unsure of where they stand after their last encounter. Eventually he asks if he has any songs written down in there; he looks so hopeful that Quackity almost feels bad when he tells him he doesn’t.

But it makes him think. The next time he’s frustrated, staring at a blank page, he looks around for inspiration. So much is going on - he can hear the sounds people training, their swords clanging from down one of the tunnels. He can smell baked potatoes from above, where Fundy and Karl are sat on of the bridges. Tubbo is inspecting diamonds, a music disc is playing, and he - 

He’s writing before he even realises it. Writing lyrics about all of this. About the rebellion he has found a home in. 

He doesn't dare put his wheat farm anywhere near Techno's potato crops, in case he takes it as some sort of challenge to see who can grow the most before the rebellion is over.

Well, Quackity knows he'd definitely win, obviously, but he's far too busy for such things.

Pogtopia is already filled with an endless amount of tunnels - and to be honest, he doesn't want to have to update the map he's making for Wilbur for the fourth - eleventh - he doesn't even know how many times he's had to start over.

Maybe, he thinks, he shouldn’t make the farm in Pogtopia at all. He’ll find somewhere quiet, somewhere out of the way. He can’t risk somebody finding it and thinking the rebellion must be close by.

It’s two nights later when he’s finally collected enough seeds. It’s his turn to be on watch, but he can leave for a couple of hours, right? No one will notice. It’ll be fine.

He finds time in every day to check on his wheat farm. He goes early: when the sun is just deciding to rise, and the dark navy of the sky is shifting slowly, gradually, into a lighter blue. He wears his hoodie and Wilbur’s coat, and he is always warm enough.  Pleasingly, the wheat seems to be growing well. Quackity doesn’t have much experience in farming - but he could see things growing from the windows in the White House, he knows what healthy crops look like. 

The White House. It’s strange to think that Schlatt so easily tore it down. Didn’t he care? Obviously not. Quackity had just wanted to be a decent leader. He’d accepted that wasn’t going to happen after the election, but Schlatt destroying the White House made him think that Schlatt was never going to be one either. 

He’s glad he left. He’s glad he’s somewhere where he can truly make a difference. 

By the time he heads back to Pogtopia, the sun has fully risen - so today, when Wilbur is stood by Pogtopia’s entrance, Quackity can see him perfectly. He says hello, but Wilbur doesn’t respond right away. He just looks over his shoulder, in the direction he has come from. 

Something is wrong.

Where has he been? Wilbur asks. Where does he go every day?

Quackity has the answers to his questions then. Wilbur doesn’t trust him. And it hurts - because he knows now he wants Wilbur’s trust, and he doesn’t quite know how to get it back, if he ever had it at all.

Now Wilbur is walking back and forth across the entrance to Pogtopia - like he is protecting it. Guarding it from enemies. Guarding it from him. He is paranoia in every step, and already Quackity misses the Wilbur from before: the one who worries about those around him, the one who taught him the guitar, the one who said he was proud of him. This Wilbur is asking if he’s a spy for Schlatt, is asking him to admit it and leave. 

And of course Quackity is more than willing to explain himself, to lead Wilbur through the trees and show him the farm he’s been working on - but it hurts that he has to. It hurts to have to prove his loyalty.

Most of all, it hurts to see Wilbur changing.

The two of them collect more wheat for Niki while they’re there - but he doesn’t take any joy from it. Wilbur doesn’t apologise for his doubt, and Quackity doesn’t ask him to, because he doesn’t think the apology would be genuine, not really.

In fact, they don’t talk at all. They descend the steps together, Wilbur hands him the wheat, and they part ways.

  
  


Quackity tenses. Waits The shadow doesn’t leave. The light doesn’t return. Slowly, slowly, he closes the chest, and stands. His hand goes for his weapon -

An arrow whistles past his ear. It meets the wall: terrifyingly close to him, and it bounces off, clattering to the floor loudly. The shaft of the arrow is painted red, and it lies at his feet. He knows that it missed - but he can’t help but feel like it was on purpose.

Quackity thinks it best he doesn’t reach for his sword again.

He faces the cave’s entrance. Schlatt is there: a wide grin on his face as he claps his hands together. The sound echoes through the cave, growing and multiplying until it’s all Quackity can hear. A little ways behind him is George, in the process of drawing back another red arrow on his bow.

Schlatt calls this a pleasant surprise. They all know there’s nothing coincidental about this.

And oh. Schlatt is asking him to spy on Pogtopia. To bring them down from the inside. Quackity wants to sneer at him, to laugh at him and claim he’d never even consider doing such a thing - but he doesn’t. He can’t. The words won’t leave his mouth.

What is he supposed to do?

With his help, Schlatt says, Pogtopia will cease to ever be a problem again.

Quackity looks from him, to George - who is Vice President, like he aways wanted to be.

Let George have actual power, he says, and he'll consider it. Schlatt's grin only grows wider, promising with ease that of course, George will be able to make a difference. Quackity wishes desperately that Schlatt had refused. That would have made this decision much easier. But he's accepted his terms, and goes to leave - hoping that Quackity will make the right choice. This just just leaves him and George. Quackity cannot see his eyes, cannot tell if he's happy with this development or not. He hopes he is. He can finally start all those plans he talked about.

But is helping George get what he wants worth giving up everything else? He sees Wilbur in his mind, watching his rebellion grow with satisfaction. He sees Tommy, clutching his golden flag.

He doesn't know what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quackity as a spy, what will he do.
> 
> I listened to Checkmate by Conan Gray on repeat while writing this chapter. I can’t get it out of my head!
> 
> Honestly this chapter was SO fun to write. I did struggle on the scene where Wilbur and the others go to Manburg - I had to rewrite it a bunch of times. I hope you guys thought it came out okay! I’d love to hear your thoughts.
> 
> As always, if there are any tags you think I’ve missed, please let me know, and I hope you all stay safe and have a good day/night!


	3. moonlit clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quackity is determined to get Wilbur’s trust back. (There’s a thought in his head that makes him think: having Wilbur on his side will be advantageous if he does decide to spy on Pogtopia for Schlatt - but whether or not he betrays them, he wants to be his friend again.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back with more pogtopia quackity! i adore writing this fic so much,,, my heart just goes all soft. 
> 
> thank you so much for all of your support! i'm glad to hear that people enjoy this as much as i do :D

He’s carrying chests of seeds to the cave he’s adapted for storage when he sees it. A letter is pierced onto one of the chests of wheat already in the cave - and holding it there is an arrow. The wooden shaft of it is painted red. 

George.

He forgets the chest, pulling out the arrow, and it’s a definite match to the one that nearly hit him last time. He catches the letter when it falls: small in his hand, smelling of new paper. The envelope is blank, but Quackity guesses - knows - that’s it’s meant for him. 

He finds a seat atop one of the longer chests, and opens the letter. There are no names, no way of knowing who the letter is addressed to or who wrote it, but that doesn’t matter. He can tell it’s George’s handwriting, even though the letters are messy, like he’s trying to hide it. It’s written with blue ink - George’s favourite colour. Every few words one of them is smudged, just a little, which Quackity knows is due to George’s left-handedness.

So he’s writing him a letter, that much is obvious. The question is: why?

He reads it quickly; it isn’t very long.

_Consider the President’s offer,_ it says. _You could come home._

_ He’s already started listening to my suggestions. In case you were wondering whether he was sticking to his side of the deal. It’s just up to you whether or not you stick to yours._

_P.S. it was you who took my book, wasn’t it?_

Quackity lowers the paper with a sigh. So it’s pretty clear, then, what George thinks he should do. But is he only saying it because it benefits him? Or does he truly want Quackity to come home?  He taps his fingers against George’s words. Home. He isn’t sure where that is anymore. He thought it was Manburg, then he thought it was Pogtopia, and now - he just doesn’t know.

He does know that he wants to respond to George though. There’s a chance he might come back. He’s not going to mention the choice he has to make, or Schlatt, or anything like that. He’s not going to give a promise he’s not sure he can keep. 

He doesn’t have any paper though, so he flips George’s letter and writes on the back:

_Hello,_

_Yes, I have your book. It’s mine now (:_

He can’t resist a smile. Perfect. He stabs the arrow through the paper, pinning it to the chest once again. 

He tries to carry on with his day after that, but George’s words are far to easy to picture, haunting him to distraction. He’s wandering aimlessly down tunnels, and turning up late for lunch. He’s pulling up potatoes that aren’t quite ready until Techno shakes him out of it, looking more concerned for him than he ever has before. He sits him down after that, baking them potatoes - then settling down himself to tinker with his crossbow while Quackity inhales the flavour and the warmth.

Techno doesn’t ask him why he’s distracted - which he’s grateful for. He doesn’t think he should tell anyone about George’s letter anyway. Instead the talk about the meeting Wilbur’s asking everyone to attend later, the fishing nets Tubbo’s just cast into the river, Quackity’s training with Tommy. He looks at the crossbow in Techno’s hands, and misses his own. He’d put it away after their visit to Manburg, and hasn’t used it since - but he thinks maybe, it’s time to try again. 

Whether or not he decides to work with Schlatt, he can’t keep letting what he says get to him.

Techno and he part ways later when all the crops are dug up. Quackity notices that his diamond hoe is starting to look worn: the blue shine not as bright as before, the stick a little chipped. He's already planning to go mining for iron before Wilbur's meeting, he doesn't mind looking for some diamonds while he's there. A quick stop at the Quackity Corner for his armour (he doesn't put on his best, it's only going to be a simple trip) and he's ready to go, waving at those he passes as he heads towards the end of the ravine, where the ladders into their mine awaits.

He stops at the sound of two voices, calling to him. Tommy is racing towards him, Tubbo close behind - the two of them are playfully jostling with eachother in an attempt to reach him first. They say that they want to come with him: they haven't all done something together since the days before the election. 

Quackity is more than happy for them to tag along. He's missed them. He's missed this - just spending time together, messing around, having _fun._ Manburg was never about fun. It was about timetables and quotas to meet, offices to build, events to plan. 

(If he agrees to join them, George can change that. They can change that.)

Wilbur doesn't say he's annoyed when they show up late, but he does spend most the meeting with his back turned to them, saying that Manburg has been quiet lately. So that means something must have changed, they must be planning something, so they have to start planning their defence. 

The thought occurs to him: maybe securing Manburg's victory, ceasing the fighting, could bring the old Wilbur back. One who isn't falling deeper into strategising - theorising - opposing his enemies. Maybe with Quackity in Manburg, he won't see it as the enemy any more, maybe -

No. He's lying to himself, isn't he? If he leaves, Wilbur won't thank him for it. It'll just be another betrayal to add to the weight on his shoulders. He knows it. (Is he willing to do it anyway?)

_I thought you might have taken it. I hope you’re putting it to good use, at least. Bring it back when you come home though, yeah?  
_

_Come to think of it, the book disappeared at the same time Karl did. Did he leave with you, too? We were worried about him - Eret wanted to send out a search party, but there wasn’t time._

_I hope he’s doing alright. I hope you’re doing alright._

At first, Quackity is nervous about writing letters back. There’s a fear that won’t go away: that George is only communicating with him to make him lower his guard and reveal Pogtopia’s plans. His first few letters are short, never revealing much about his life at all. He has to remember, he’s writing to Manburg’s Vice President. 

But it becomes harder and harder to keep reminding himself of that. Soon, it’s just George. Just a friend he’s keeping in contact with, just a letter every few days that he ends up looking forwards too. He still makes sure not to reveal anything important, but the letters get longer, and the written conversations become easier. He doesn’t talk about Pogtopia, and George doesn’t talk about Manburg. They just recount events of the past - each letter becoming a burst of nostalgia that Quackity cherishes.

Whenever he reads his latest letters, he twirls George’s red arrow between his fingers, smiling.

With all the iron he's collected, there's enough for everybody to have a lantern each. They all get to hang one up in a place of their choosing, and when it's done the ravine is filled with light. 

Quackity is determined to get Wilbur’s trust back. (There’s a thought in his head that makes him think: having Wilbur on his side will be advantageous if he does decide to spy on Pogtopia for Schlatt - but whether or not he betrays them, he wants to be his friend again.) 

Wilbur doesn't seem to have anything to say to him anymore: no encouragement, no advice, no pride. So Quackity makes that _his_ job, inviting Wilbur to train with Tommy and him every so often, volunteering to take the night shift when he overhears him telling Karl about the headache he's been having, and anything else he can think of. It's not looking good when Wilbur always has excuses for why he can't join in with training, or declines his offer, saying everyone should have a shift so it's fair. Which is understandable, but come _on._

He's not getting anywhere. He doesn't know what to do.

(Schlatt, saying Wilbur and Tommy are banished. Fundy, so eagerly tearing down the walls. L'manburg, with it's new name. Tubbo, afraid when Techno raises his crossbow, trusting him till the end. _He doesn't know what to do.)_

Keep trying. Keep moving. Wherever he ends up going- at least he isn't standing still.

_Karl is with us. There was room for two in the boat, so I thought there was no harm in asking. I didn’t actually expect him to agree - but he did, and I’m glad of it._  
_I wish I’d payed more attention to your potion ramblings. I don’t understand half of what this book is trying to tell me, how complicated do these things need to be?_

_You understand them though._ _I hope you’re_ _okay too._

Quackity builds a noticeboard for the main, social area of the ravine, a little ways off from the campfire. He meant it to be a way for everybody to keep track of their own daily routines; everybody decides instead that it’s going to be a board for pinning up drawings of eachother. It turns into a challenge for everyone to try and get their picture at the centre of the board: the agreed spot for the best creation.

One day, Quackity passes by to see a pencil sketch of him and Techno - he remembers the moment, when they’d taken a breather from replanting potatoes to sit for a quiet, comfortable moment. The drawing is at the centre of the board, and Quackity can’t find it in him to say that he minds the change of it’s purpose. 

He notices Wilbur, one early morning when he’s coming back from checking on his wheat farm (and for another letter from George.) He slips the letter into his pocket as he passes him: neither of them speak a word. Wilbur doesn’t take his eyes off of the golden flag in his hand - Tommy’s flag, Quackity realises; he’s spinning it round, letting it glisten in the lantern’s light. 

He leaves Wilbur on the bridge, and when he reaches the ravine floor -

The flag lands at his feet. He abandons the bags of wheat to pick it up - and thank goodness, it’s not damaged. Quackity doesn’t know what he’d do if it were - or how he’d break the news to Tommy. He looks up, to where Wilbur’s head is poking over the edge of the bridge. He looks guilty, saying it was an accident. Quackity wants to believe him. Why is it so difficult to?

Crossbow in hand, he points at the intruder. Well, almost intruder. They're in Pogtopia's forest, and that's close enough to be a risk.

Eret lifts a hand up in peace, the other holding a sack. Supplies. For them?

Quackity feels awfully like Wilbur in this moment, instantly distrusting. He knows that Eret opposes Schlatt - he opposed him too, back when he was Vice President - but things are different now. George has power, and he may have gotten the King on Manburg's side.

He doesn't know which situation he'd prefer. He doesn't know if it's more beneficial for Eret to be with the government or the rebellion; how is he supposed to tell if he can't even choose where he wants to be himself? 

Eret speaks calmly, resting the sack by their feet. It's for Pogtopia, they say. They want to offer them support. 

Quackity won't lower his crossbow. Not until Eret has dissapeared into the trees. 

He doesn't know how, but today's training session with Tommy has turned into a competition. They all have wooden swords, and Tommy cheerfully tells them that they're all going to take it in turns to pair up, and the first person to land a hit wins.

Duel after duel passes by in a blur. Quackity is proud at how well he did - even managing to beat Tommy with a feint to the left before turning to connect his sword with his side. He's practically tackled to the floor by Tommy after that - he's so _proud,_ Big Q, well done - and his name on the noticeboard is moved to the next round.

His next opponent is Tubbo, who's serious and skilled and quick - darting in to land a hit moments after Wilbur finishes the countdown. Quackity's out, but he hardly minds, ruffling Tubbo's hair and congratulating him on how scary he gets when he's focused. Tubbo beams with pride.

In the end, it's just Techno and Niki left. It's the longest duel by far, filled with attacks and parries and circling eachother, waiting for a moment to strike. Both of them have shields for this match, and the breath gets caught in his throat whenever one of them swings their sword for a direct hit, only for a shield to block at the last second. 

When the final few moments come and go: Niki actually _throwing_ her shield at Techno, and using the distraction to land a hit on his leg - there is absolute chaos. Niki is lifted into the air. Somebody is playing music on multiple jukeboxes at once. Techno kneels and takes off his crown to offer it up to her, saying something about bowing to the new champion - and there are grins on both their faces. Tubbo yells something about this being an important moment to document in the Archives, and Tommy pulls him away to discuss ideas for a throne. 

Quackity - can't stop smiling. He takes the crown from Techno's hands and Niki bows her head for him to place it down. This is a grand occasion for them all, he says. They have a champion. A Queen! 

He kneels alongside Techno, and Niki's laughter echos through the ravine as everybody else follows suit. 

_I hung out with Eret today. I feel a little sorry for them sometimes - they have the title of king, but they never do anything with their power. You already know, now that I'm the Vice President , I'm going to make my title mean something. Help this country grow. So the sooner we have information coming from you, the better._

_I can't wait to work along side you again (don't forget the book!)_

Quackity staggers down the steps of the ravine one at a time, a barely-conscious Tubbo clinging to his back. He didn't think it would go like this. He thinks it's funny - It was only meant to be a simple reconnaissance mission with the two of them. He was too busy looking through his binoculars to see the potions being thrown their way. Potions of poison. George's work, he realises distantly. He probably only hit him with one by mistake. George wouldn't be aiming for him.

The blurring of his vision as he sinks down to the ravine floor says otherwise, though. Quackity wonders how much damage he'll have to take for Wilbur's rebellion before he can earn his trust again.

He hopes with all he has that the potions of healing he's made are good enough. He can't tell who approaches them, their worried shouts ringing in his ears, but he tells them to tend to Tubbo first.

Time passes. He and Tubbo get better. George's letter's keep coming, but they contain no apologies.

It's not a cloudy night: the moon lights their path, and Tommy leads them through the trees, a guiding light in his hand. It’s ten, twenty minutes later when the lake comes into view - and chatter amongst them all grows at the sight of it. Quackity did not witness the battle of the lake, but Tommy regales the tale to them. They smile when he exaggerates, and Techno reminds Tommy - didn't he get knocked out almost immediately after the fight began?

Tommy splashes him with lake water in response, and suddenly it's a mad rush to jump into the lake a start a water-fight. Quackity forms an alliance with Niki and they stand back to back as Tubbo circles them, grin taking over his face. He dives for Niki's ankles - he scoops her up and out of the way, boasting that Tubbo will have to be faster than that. Niki laughs into his shoulder, and he stands there triumphant, asking somebody to take him on.

He doesn't see Tommy, lunging to tackle his waist - and they all go toppling down. 

He resurfaces, spluttering, to see Tommy and Tubbo high five in glee. Niki is pushing her wet hair over her forehead, swearing revenge. Quackity is more than happy to agree. He lets her climb up onto his shoulders, and Tubbo is lifted up by Tommy. Karl is there, fist to his mouth like it’s a microphone, calling for a fair fight.   
  
Niki says there’ll be no promises, and Quackity grins. They’re going down.   
  


They stay like that, by the lake for hours, surrounded by the flickering candles and the light of the moon.

When everybody starts heading off, back to Pogtopia, bundled up in towels and blankets, Wilbur asks him to stay behind. So they stay, drifting in the water; Techno is the last to leave, glancing at them curiously before heading off. 

Wilbur doesn't say anything for a long time. Quackity leans back, feeling the water rush over his ears as he looks up at the stars to draw lines between them. He makes his own constellations. There's a diamond hoe stretching across the sky, next to a school of fish. A collection of triangles group together to become Eret's crown, or maybe Niki's. He can even make out L'manburg's walls - and if he closes his eyes he can almost picture them too. He's glad Karl had the idea for this. It's nice to relax.

Wilbur says his name. It drifts between them on the water, travelling quietly over the rippling surface. Quackity keeps on staring up at the sky. 

He says he's sorry for being so paranoid. For doubting him. The water shifts - Quackity sees Wilbur out of the corner of his eye, leaning back as well. He looks sincere. The moon is reflecting off of the lake’s surface, lighting up Wilbur’s face. Any attempt he makes to hide the truth would be detectable.

Quackity thinks, right now, it’s impossible for him to tell a lie.

He tells Wilbur that he's only ever tried to help. And it hits him then: that's all he's ever going to do. He can't betray them. George might need him, but he needs this. He needs to be here, with Wilbur, learning how to trust again. He needs to be pouring himself into advanced potions, improving and understanding more every day. He needs to be honest with the people he's come to care about. He needs to train with Tommy, he needs to relax, he needs to farm potatoes.

He really needs those bloody potatoes.

This isn't something he can give up. This isn't something he can betray. As the dawn begins to arrive, fresh and rosy fingered, Quackity feels like he can breathe again. Like he's been gifted a sense of clarity that's eased his stress and worry. 

He won't be helping Schlatt. Not anytime soon. He sits up; Wilbur follows. He holds out out a hand, an offer, a promise of starting over. A promise of trust.

Wilbur smiles, and takes it.

_George._

_I can't do it. I can't help you._

_I'd say that I'm sorry, but I don't think I am. Improving Schlatt's country is what I want to do , just like you, but I have to do it this way._

_You talk about having the power to make Manburg grow - but I don't think that will ever be possible unless we get rid of Schlatt. He's choking this place to death, can't you see it? He's taking away everything that made it flourish in the first place._

_I can only hope that the next time we see each other, we are not on opposing sides._

_Q._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fic: has elements of friendship and trust  
> me: sobbing my eyes out
> 
> i loved writing this chapter SO much. i've always felt so at peace whenever i've gone night swimming, i wanted to add that here. i hope you enjoyed.
> 
> please leave me comments! i hoard them all like dragons hoard their gold, they're very precious to mee
> 
> stay safe! have a good/day night :))


	4. poisonous trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There almost seems to be stardust on Eret's crown, with the way it glimmers at their side. Quackity cannot draw his eyes away.
> 
> Then - Eret is offering it out to him. They say that he can try it, if he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay! I had a ton of essays to get completed, sigh. This chapter was VERY fun to write and I hope you enjoy!

Quackity is pretty certain he’s dreaming when he passes by a mirror and sees himself in a suit. How strange and surreal it feels to be wearing one again. How odd it is, that he's so quickly moved on from his old life.

Well, not moved on entirely. The old him - the Vice President - still haunts his dreams, leading him by the hand.

He's stuck in place while Schlatt banishes his friends, laughing to convince himself that he isn't a little bit afraid. There's an invisible blockade in his path, stopping him from getting between Techno and Tubbo, stopping him from pushing his crossbow away, so that he can point it anywhere but it's target. He can't push it down. He can't push it to the side. He can't even push it towards Schlatt ---

\--- and then the podium is exploding with colour, and Quackity can't see anything, but he knows Tubbo is at the centre of the blast. 

He knows it's no longer his reflection wearing the suit: it's him. This is everything that he's done. This is his fault. 

The tie is too tight. He can't even take it off. When he wakes up he can still feel it, almost, and he spends the morning in a daze, trying to remove something that isn't there.

He's glad that he and Wilbur keep on returning to the lake, every so often. It’s nice, just talking about things other than the rebellion. They play music, careful to keep the volume to a minimum - but it’s hard not to laugh when Wilbur comes up with lyrics of nonsense, entertaining and light and free.

It’s inevitable, though, that the topic of conversation always turns back to more serious subjects: supplies, weapons, and endless endless strategies, but Quackity doesn’t mind too much. This is important to Wilbur, he knows it is; it makes him happy that he trusts him enough that they can talk about all of this together. Some kind of content feeling that is only made more stable as they both drift on the surface of the lake, creating constellations. 

He spots a microphone. Wilbur draws the lines for blocks of tnt. Together they find the sash from L’manburg’s revolutionary uniform (which Quackity privately thinks is a much cooler outfit than the suits he had to wear everyday.)

One day, things are a little different, because when they arrive somebody else is already there.

Eret sits, crosslegged, at the lake’s edge - and Quackity is nervous and all too aware of the lack of weapons they have. He and Wilbur don't have any either. 

The moon shines down on the all, and Quackity sits down too, pushing himself into the water. He isn't going to come all this way for nothing. Tentatively, Wilbur follows him. There almost seems to be stardust on Eret's crown, with the way it glimmers at their side. Quackity cannot draw his eyes away.

Then - Eret is offering it out to him. They say that he can try it, if he wants. The golden crown is heavy in Quackity hands - and he nearly drops it, stopping its fall right above the surface of the lake. He raises it to his head, and it's a moment before he is certain of his balance. Eret wears this, everyday? 

Wilbur carries a certain air about him, a kind of stunned silence. The water around him is calm and still. He looks from Quackity, to the crown, and back again. 

Quackity glances to Eret - they, nod, it's alright - and he holds out the crown to Wilbur. All he does is stare at it, for a while, drifting a little closer. Then he shakes his head; he says he's fine. He doesn't want to. 

But the way his eyes keep on finding their way back to crown after that makes Quackity think otherwise. Wilbur wants to wear it. He wants to, desperately. Why won't he let himself? Maybe he knows that the idea of holding onto that kind of power, even for a moment, will make him want to hold onto it forever. 

His legs long to walk on the path that will lead him home. Wilbur has already whisked himself away, enveloping himself in the tree-cast shadows, but Quackity hesitates. Turns to Eret, who is drying their sunglasses on their towel - eyes like faint lanterns in the dark. Their crown shines, dripping with lakewater, droplets running down their face - and yet they make no move to wipe it away.

Quackity asks: does Eret want to come with him?

The utter surprise that he gets in response knocks inside his chest. He offers out a hand, pulling Eret up. He jokes that Wilbur's leaving them both behind. Eret never says that they want to come, but by the way they follow Quackity through the night and down into the heart of Pogtopia, he thinks he knows which side they're on.

Wilbur doesn't seem to agree or disagree with Quackity's decision. All he does is say that he trusts his judgement, and if Quackity thinks this is a good idea, he'll follow his lead. 

He thanks Wilbur for that, as earnestly as he can.

Eret and Niki compare their crowns. Who’s is best? What sort of requirements do they have to meet? 

Of course, when they can’t decide, it turns into a Pogtopian debate that requires them all. Niki says hers is best - she won it, after all. Techno nods. He’s on team Niki (the fact that the crown used to be his is as good of a reason as any to support her.) Tommy is standing firm on Eret’s side - their crown was made for them, and surely that makes it the best?

Quackity spies Tubbo at the side of it all, furiously writing down all the pros and cons each team is throwing each. He decides: whoever Tubbo supports, he’ll support them too. Wilbur hasn’t joined either side. Instead he plays his guitar, grinning at all of the chaos. 

Karl jumps in, insisting that Niki’s is better, after all, Eret only got theirs because they were a traitor -

Wilbur’s music cuts off.

For one moment, nobody says anything. One moment, that stretches on for so long that when Eret stands and takes off their crown, Quackity is almost glad, if only to break the hush that’s descended over them all. But Eret is heading for the furnaces, and it’s all anybody can do to just watch as they stuff the crown inside, grab some coal, and let it start to melt away. 

They look pointedly at Karl.

Niki wins, they say. Is everyone happy now?

Wilbur recruits Tommy - and now when he wakes up every morning to collect wheat from his farm, he has company. 

Quackity holds his newest creation in his hands. All he can think, is that he hopes this crown he’s holding (melted down iron, entwined into something new, something much lighter and delicate than the crown that came before) will make Eret feel better. 

Tiny fragments of emerald are set into the metal, and they glimmer with the fires of the furnace, reflecting green lights all around. Quackity wants to give it to Eret, desperately. Before something happens. Before they leave.

He thinks he knows where they’ll be.

Eret is a speck in the waters of the lake, a tiny dot causing ripples on the otherwise peaceful surface. Quackity offers them their new crown, if they want it. 

They aren't a traitor anymore, he promises them. They're here. They came back.

  
  
  


He pushes open the doors to the white house, the creak a lingering echo stretching out into the darkness before him. His tie is back - a stripe of red across his throat - and he tries to ignore it. Wandering the halls is a slow process in the dark, and Quackity doesn't know where he's supposed to be going, but this building used to mean everything to him. Even in the dark, he knows where he is. He remembers where to turn a corner, and he remembers to avoid the water cooler, and to step around the floorboard that always groans. He remembers that if the door to Schlatt's office is ajar, then he's most likely inside. And this time: the door is open, just a little, leaving a slice of light to spill out into the hallway.

Quackity pushes it open, and the president is just where he expects him to be. He's sat as his desk, fingers linked on the table's surface. 

He smiles at Quackity (at his vice president, the man who handed him power on a silver platter) - and tells him to pull up a chair. They have work to do. And he's moving by himself, now; he's reaching for the empty chair, reaching for his old life, when -

\- he wakes up. Pogtopia. Cold, windy, familiar Pogtopia.

Quackity knows his suit and tie are nothing but ashes in the fire, now. Why does he feel like he's still wearing them? Why do they feel like a second skin?

Tommy and Tubbo dash around the ravine, giving everybody a paper crown. Quackity’s is blue. Wilbur’s is grey - and they all smile at the surprise in his wide eyes as he reaches up to touch it. 

Karl reads aloud from George’s book, relaying the instructions for achieving night vision again. This is one that Quackity has been looking forwards to, chopping up the golden carrot into pieces before sprinkling them into the brewing stand. Karl hands over the nether wart - he crushes it in his grip, letting the juice pool in his palm.

One, two, three drops - and he pulls his hand away. He and Karl share a hopeful grin; he adds a dash of blaze power and hopes for the best.

When no blue cloud of smoke arrises from the bottle, he’s a little disappointed, but he pushes on. Maybe the carrot needs to be chopped differently, he’ll try for smaller pieces this time.

Karl suggests leaving the nether wart to settle before they add the blaze powder to combine it all. Hope pools in his stomach - that might just be it. They’ve been going at this for hours and they might finally be there. He’s having fun, he realises suddenly. This is fun.

When the potion begins to smoulder a deep blue, the sense of accomplishment is almost euphoric.

Almost, because they’re yet to try it. Karl pours half of the bottle into a second one for Quackity, handing it over with trembling fingers. Drinking it overwhelms his senses with the taste and smell of carrots and metal - and then his eyes begin to burn. It’s not uncomfortable, just enough to notice.

The laterns they’re using get blown out, leaving them in a tense darkness. Or, it should have been darkness - but Quackity can see perfectly.

Karl correctly guesses how many fingers he’s holding up, and Quackity is quick to spin him around. They share a cry of victory, uncaring about how it echoes through the ravine. He desperately wants to tell George the good news.

But he can’t, can he? He and George lead different lives now. No more letters. He’s made his choice.

It’s at one of the meetings when Niki asks who’s been leaving her wheat. Wilbur smiles, expression morphed into something proud, and says that it’s all Quackity’s work.

Eyes, on him. Wilbur’s presence, supportive. 

He takes the credit. He’s happy to help.

  
  


Eret’s leading a small party, in the middle of the night, to their castle. There’s plenty of enchanting books, they explained during the last group meeting, ones that they’ve been saving for a special occasion.

Tommy had grinned - that time might as well be now. He’s in the group, along with Eret and Karl. Quackity follows behind.

He looks between Eret and Karl, glad that things have smoothed over between them. As much as he’s tried to expand Pogtopia, it always feels just a little bit cramped. Usually that’s endearing, but when you’ve fallen out with someone it can make things difficult.

But Eret is smiling at something Karl’s said, and together they’re carrying the bags for the enchanting books. Quackity knows they’re okay.

Niki’s baked a cake. It’s to thank him for all the wheat, she says, and looking at the frosting and the strawberries Quackity can hardly resist.   
  
He’s about the eat a slice, when he stops. Spending so long with George has gotten him used to the different smells of potions, and this cake - this gift, smells a whole lot like poison.

Niki watches him, expectant, a smile on her face. He makes some excuse - he's not hungry - he'll eat it later.

He has to find Wilbur.

He tells Wilbur that Niki's tried to give him something poisonous.

Wilbur takes five seconds. Ten. He looks Quackity in the eye - what is he trying to say? And well, before now, he would have never even considered the possibility of Niki being a traitor. Before now, he had no doubt about Niki’s hatred of Schlatt.

But poison doesn’t lie. It smells of acid and death, and it doesn’t lie. 

Wilbur strides past him - billowing coat, steely eyes. Quackity follows close behind; they move together through the ravine, passing all of the people until they reach the one who has caused them doubt. 

Niki smiles. Is she happy to see them? Quackity doesn’t like the fact that he can’t tell, anymore. He own doubt has turned his trust into something defensive and bitter, and he wonders if Wilbur feels the same.

As bad as he feels for him, picturing the pain that could be growing in his chest because of this possible betrayal, something in Quackity is warm. Something small is pleased, that while Wilbur’s doubts Niki, he does not doubt him. There’s no hesitance in his eyes - nothing to give the impression that he thinks Quackity is lying. 

He feels bad, almost instantly. He shouldn’t feel glad, seeing Wilbur distrust his friend (but he does. He does, and he doesn’t know how to change it.)

Niki and Wilbur have known eachother for so long. Could she ever betray him? 

Maybe not. Wilbur wasn’t the one she tried to poison, it was him. Quackity thinks of Niki as his friend too - but he guess the feeling isn’t reciprocated. Maybe she has no problem with taking Quackity out. Maybe Schlatt has somehow convinced her that he means Pogtopia harm, and she’s only getting rid of him to protect everyone - 

Is this wrong? Has he got it all wrong?

It doesn’t matter, apparently, because Wilbur is stood at Quackity’s side and telling Niki to leave. 

She looks confused (or is she just acting?) Wilbur doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t throw accusations, doesn’t ask for an explanation. Niki takes a step forwards - and Wilbur does too. He’s protecting him, Quackity realises. He’s keeping him safe from harm. 

Niki won’t go. She says that she doesn’t understand. Quackity tells her, quietly, that he knows about the poison in his cake.  It’s okay. He figured it out. She doesn’t have to pretend anymore. 

Niki goes silent. Quackity only notices it now, but the rest of the ravine has gone silent too. They’re all watching the scene play out in front of them. Confused, as Niki turns around. Nervous, when she picks up her sword. Enthralled, when she packs a bag of supplies, places her golden crown atop her hair, and climbs the steps without looking back. 

Quackity can see her clenched fists, and hopes they’re not making a mistake.

  
  


He knows that he’s not dreaming, anymore. He’s back in his suit, and this is a nightmare.

Dull explosions can be heard in the distance - fireworks of some kind. Footsteps thudding against the ground as Wilbur frantically searches for a button that has the power to destroy everything Quackity holds dear. Techno’s laughter: bone-chilling, as he loses himself momentarily to bloodblust, attacking anyone whether they be friend or foe. Quietest of all, is the one sound that won’t leave Quackity alone. It’s Tommy, and his desperate cries, struggling to carry Tubbo home.

He’s done this. He’s done this. He can never make up for it, can he? Maybe Niki isn’t the only one who distrusts him. Maybe they all do, and they’re just waiting for the right moment to get rid of him.

When the sun rises, and the day starts, Quackity doesn’t wait for Wilbur and Tommy to join him, he just leaves the ravine. He heads in the opposite direction to Manburg and Pogtopia and everything, really - and walks until the fresh air stings his lungs. 

Pogtopia stays quiet for a while after Niki leaves  The smell of freshly baked bread leaves quickly, but the tang of poison takes longer to fade away. By this point, everybody knows why Wilbur asked Niki to go - and every one of them is surprised. Quackity gets it. He’s surprised too.

Nobody else wants to bake, so they're back to meals of baked potatoes. It feels wrong, taking up the place that Niki used to occupy. Most of her things are still here too - she only took a small bag with her when she left. The notice board still has her pictures. Eret’s iron crown looks lonely on its shelf, without her golden one to keep it company.

Quackity knows that he’s probably the most quiet of all. If he can’t trust Niki - who else should he be wary of? Who can’t he trust to be there for him?

He thinks of Tommy, hand clenched around his golden flag - peacefully watching it flicker in the firelight. He thinks of drifting on the lake’s surface, laughing, dreaming up constellations with Wil. He so desperately wants to trust them. He wants to reclaim their L’manburg - but what is the point if they aren’t there to share the joy?

No. Wilbur and Tommy are more desperate than anyone to see their old home again. They are the only ones he doesn’t have shrouded in doubt.

And even though Niki is gone, he keeps working on his farm. He doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t want to lose this routine he enjoys. And like Techno’s said - it doesn’t have to be work if he doesn’t want it to be. It’s a game: pulling up row after row of wheat, or betting on which fertiliser is going to work best.   


It’s time to spend with his friends. When life is rebellion, just the simple act of conversation becomes something precious, something to treasure. And he thinks that, maybe, eventually, he'll take up baking too.  
  


He doesn’t want to sleep anymore. Can anyone blame him? He doesn’t want to go back to the world that mirrors his own, that mirrors his past failures back at him.  


So it’s back to sitting in front of the fire. This is familiar. Wind whistles through the ravine, flapping the collar of Wilbur’s borrowed coat, and he curls a little closer into himself. He can’t fall asleep. He can’t. He’s drifting between consciousness and the never ending pull of sleep, when somebody sits down beside him. Wilbur. He looks as tired as Quackity feels: eyebags, messy hair, stifled yawns.

Why can’t he sleep? Wilbur is nothing but a channel of curiosity, no judgment in sight. They both have their coats, and their beanies, and Quackity wonders if somebody saw them from a distance, would they be able to even tell them apart?

Nightmares. That’s the only word he can bring himself to say at first - he utters it into the flames in the hopes that they will burn it away. He can’t stop having nightmares.

Wilbur’s eyes flash with understanding. He tells Quackity that he’s been having them too, ever since he and Tommy created Pogtopia. There’s an unspoken agreement in the next moment; it's a promise of trust, and support. They tell eachother about the nightmares they have, and they know to treat them like quiet secrets - ones that you bury in your chest and don’t set free.   
Wilbur tells him that he dreams of the room he created. He can hear L’manburg’s anthem, repeating itself over and over; it’s sung by voices he does not recognise and they’re mocking him. Wondering why he hasn’t finished this already. Why he hasn’t pressed the button and let everything start over again.

Sometimes he’s back at the election. Sometimes he dreams of being banished, and they don’t manage to escape. 

He dreams of traitors, imaginary and real. Eret. Techno. Tommy. Niki. He says Quackity is there too - in his suit, standing at Schlatt’s side. Wilbur doesn’t want to believe it, he promises he doesn’t. But it’s so _hard._ Quackity holds onto him when silent sobs wrack his body. Wilbur clings onto him - the real him, not the one they both dream about, the one who sides with Manburg alone. 

Quackity tells him about all the mistakes he's made, and how they haunt him when he sleeps. He admits the fear that he feels, that nobody's forgiven him, and they want him gone.

Wilbur swears - he doesn't feel that way. Quackity is so valuable to this rebellion, and they all know it. Wilbur wishes he could see it, too. He's the one that's holding them all together. He's the one who's spent so much time making the ravine into something to call home.

And, oh.

Is that what they think? Even after all the time he's spend on the side against theirs, they all still want him?

Quackity wants to say that he's dreaming but he knows that all of this: the crackling flames, the howl of the wind - it's all real. It's too nice to be a dream. He hasn't had a nice dream in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a dragon who hoards comments! please let me know your thoughts! 
> 
> Listened to cool girl by dodie many many times while writing this. her voice is just so hauntingly pretty. 
> 
> And if there are any tags you think I need to add, please let me know. I’m very tired and will get around to checking this chapter over again tomorrow.
> 
> Writing Wil and Quackity’s developing friendship,,,, it makes me so happy. Trust and growth and sharing bad dreams make me so happy.


	5. fake friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eret looks through their iron crown when they're remembering the golden one they used to wear. Tubbo straightens his sleeves, sometimes, like he did when he wore a suit much like Quackity's own. Tommy clings to his flag like a lifeline. Karl spends entire days lost in books, and Techno crafts weapon after weapon. 
> 
> They all have their nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here you guys go! 4k of big q. so sorry it took so long! haven't fully checked this chapter over, so i'll definitely look over it again later. but for now it is 01:30 and i must zzzz

Tommy has a smile that only grows wider when Quackity offers to tutor him on his crossbow skills. He will not let Schlatt take away what brings him joy - and sharing his passions with others seems like a good place to start. It’s also a way to pay Tommy back, he reasons, for all of the help he’s given him during their sword fighting lessons.

Twirling his golden flag between his fingers, Tommy descends into the deeper levels of the ravine, searching for an empty room to facilitate their training. Quackity let’s him lead the way, excited and nervous all at once. There is a chance that he is no good at passing on the skills he’s learnt. There’s a chance they’ll injure themselves, there’s a chance they’ll have a disagreement and fall out, there’s a chance that every worry Quackity has will come to be. There is also a chance that none of them will - that every bad outcome will remain in his mind and things will be fine. He clings to that possibility as best as he can, as they walk down the steps into an area of peace and quiet.

Turning to him expectantly, Tommy calls him Professor Q, nudging his shoulder to make sure he’s alright. Quackity doesn’t know if he’s aware of how comforting the action is. He makes a point to promise himself: he will thank Tommy, someday, of how grateful he is for, well, everything. He didn’t have to offer Quackity a place in Pogtopia, but he did. He didn’t have to train him, but he did. He didn’t have to accept him, so readily, into their rebellion, but he is more thankful than anything that he did.

He has Tommy’s trust too, he realises with a start. And Tommy has his. He is determined now - pulling his crossbow off of his back and offering it out to his friend - that he will not let him down. 

Eret looks through their iron crown when they're remembering the golden one they used to wear. Tubbo straightens his sleeves, sometimes, like he did when he wore a suit much like Quackity's own. Tommy clings to his flag like a lifeline. Karl spends entire days lost in books, and Techno crafts weapon after weapon. 

They all have their nightmares.

Tommy surprises him - walking down the steps of the ravine with bags of wheat in his arms. Quackity thanks him, and lets Tommy past, who informs him that it’s no trouble, really. After all, he’s been collecting wheat on his own for a while now.

And something - well. Something doesn’t sit quite right with him about that.

Touching Tommy’s shoulder to get his attention, he tells them that they need to get to the farm. Right away. 

His suspicions are confined when they arrive, when the smell of the poison lingers all around his farm. Tommy must have brought back the bags of poisoned wheat, none the wiser to the smell in the air which correlated to death.

Which means... which means Niki’s innocent. The wheat was poisoned before it even reached her hands, and she’s _innocent._ This has to be another nightmare, right? He’s going to wake up any minute now. But his hand goes to his throat, and no red tie is there - and no black suit covers his sleeves. He’s awake. He’s awake, and he’s messed up.

Schlatt’s laughter rings in his head, a world away. This is Quackity's fault. 

Pogtopia becomes emptier and emptier, as more of its residents join the search party. Quackity needs to find her. He needs to apologise. He needs to a lot of things, but nothing can happen util Niki is found. He doesn't even care about who else must have poisoned his wheat supply, if not her - everything seems inconsequential when compared to a missing friend. He looks the furthest. He stays out the longest, lanterns in hand and uncaring about whether Manburg spots him. He almost feels like he deserves Schlatt's taunts, and George's disappointing looks. 

Spinning Niki around, in the lake. Presenting her with a crown. Smiles and laughter and teamwork - of _course_ she wasn't a traitor, what on earth had be been thinking? He had been as paranoid as Wilbur when he - 

Deep breaths. He tightens his grip on the lantern, and allows himself to be swallowed into the night. 

  
He tells Wilbur, apologetic, that Niki is nowhere to be found. The ravine is silent, like it’s sadly holding it’s breath.

Wilbur doesn't ask him if he's certain, doesn't request a list of the locations he's checked - he just nods, and believes him. Even amongst all of the fear Quackity has that he’s messed up, that he's caused an innocent friend to be banished - he is still quietly pleased to have Wilbur’s trust. It means more than he’s ever going to let him know, because Quackity knows what it’s like to work with somebody and not have their true support. Months of time spent at Schlatt’s side: from the day they both rose into power to the moment he shot his crossbow at him and ran without looking back. There was no trust there. There never was. He foolishly hoped for it, near the start, when they first joined forces. Quackity had thought that apart, they were strong. Together, they could truly make a difference. Their government could be remembered, and he could boast that he did as much good for L’manburg as Wilbur or Tommy or any of them.

He got his wish, didn’t he? Their government will definitely be remembered - just for different things than he ever expected.

No trust, gave them a nation to be feared. No trust, had him shooting Schlatt in the back - but he trusts Wilbur. He indulges in the hope that they will create something better than he ever could with Schlatt on his team. (Wilbur’s trust in him has hurt Niki. Quackity will do better. He writes the words down in his notebook - somehow, he will make this right.)

Tommy fires, and fires, and fires the crossbow. There is nothing left for Quackity to teach him. He knows Tommy feels like all of this is his fault, too, but he assures him it's not.

He’s desperate enough to return to Manburg when the hours pass and the daytime-sky darkens into night. He doesn’t expect anything to come of it. There’s just nowhere else to go. Nowhere else to search. There’s a chance - and he clings to it to fight off the fear - that Niki’s come back here, taken in by one of Manburg’s citizens. Fundy, perhaps? They were political partners, once upon a time, surely that could count for something? He almost laughs- the election feels like it was a lifetime ago.

He doesn’t get very far. They must have tightened up security since the last time he snuck in. A voice hisses at him in the dark, telling him to freeze where he stands. A sound - flint and steel being struck - and then both he and George are lit up in a torches glow. He looks unamused in the firelight, and Quackity lets out a sigh of relief. It’s only George. This won’t end badly.

About to strike up a conversation, George beats him to it - wasting no time in making himself clear. Quackity has twenty seconds to leave, a brief head start, then he’s going to call for backup.   
  
What?

When he doesn’t move, George’s mouth pulls into a line. He begins to count, and Quackity doesn’t stick around to hear any more. The number must have been at eleven, maybe twelve, and he’s just starting to think things are going to be okay - when an arrow of red shoots past him, grazing his arm - and he loses his footing for a brief moment of shock.

Bow in hand, George explains, matter of factly, that it’s inevitable that Schlatt will find out he’s been here. He has to leave Quackity with some kind of proof that they’re enemies now, or Schlatt would start to suspect him. Quackity nods - he’s learnt by now not to expect apologies that aren’t going to come, and tries his best to stop the bleeding as he returns home.

Wilbur is quietly furious. The only thing stopping him from marching to Manburg alone is worry for Quackity's injury, and he hovers while Eret carefully bandages his arm the best they can. Tommy’s anger is far less subtle, his rage visible in the way he hacks into one of the training dummies, and how he takes up Quackity’s crossbow for practice and doesn’t miss a single target.

Techno brings him baked potatoes every few hours, and they sit together with buttery food and warm tea and conversation. He tells Quackity that he’ll help out with his wheat farm until his arm is healed, and while he insists it isn't necessary, the gentle consideration brings him close to tears. He has to assure his anxious friend - he has not made him cry, he does not have to worry, and he feels light in a way that has escaped his capability since the moment George turned his weapon on him. 

The warmth of tea and trust helps him sleep well that night; but tomorrow’s waking brings the bitter realisation: this is George’s revenge. Saying that wounding him was necessary to avoid Schlatt’s suspicion - it’s nothing but a paper thin excuse that Quackity can see through, now. He’s angry. Of course he's angry. Quackity broke the deal, after all, so Schlatt must have taken back his promise to let George have influence and power. He must feel betrayed. Quackity understands, but that doesn’t make the gash on his arm ache any less.

He sits up - or, he tries his best to - and he’s greeted with a sight that drags a smile out onto his tired face. Wilbur is lost in sleep, facing Quackity from his place on the floor on the cave wall. Tommy is next to him, Wilbur’s shoulder turned into his headrest. They were watching over him, weren’t they?

His arm doesn’t ache any less, but over time it becomes slightly easier to ignore. 

The ravine bustles with life, but his thoughts follow down quieter paths as he writes lyrics (apologies) in his notebook. There's a potion of healing that he's halfway through - something he can take daily, thanks to Karl's hard work and effort. It tastes of something gentle; hints of summer breezes and honey.

He cannot play the guitar thanks to George, but the music in the laughter of his friends, coming from below his spot on one of the bridges, is more than enough to keep him content. Wilbur joining him, all smiles and guitar songs, is an added bonus.

He’s glad that they all care enough to worry about him. It’s better than nobody caring at all.

But their care quickly turns stifling, and Quackity can only watch as the role he’s carved out for himself in this rebellion is split up and handed out. They only want to help until he’s better, he knows this. That doesn’t stop it from hurting; watching other people do his job, knowing that he’s been declared useless.

Everyone acts so... carefully around him now. Like they’re scared to breathe too hard in his direction in case he falls apart. Quackity can’t understand it. It’s not like the arrow George shot him with was poisoned. Just that the person he always thought he’d call his best friend shot him when his back was turned, and isn’t even sorry.

Yeah. No big deal. He’s totally fine.

Quackity dreams of arrows. Wilbur dreams of dynamite. They share these items of red, and try to carry on.

When Tubbo cheerfully lets Quackity know that there's no need for him to take inventory of their weapons, because he's already done it, he realises that something has to change. He isn't useless. He's injured, sure, but he isn't some fragile thing they have to make sure doesn't break. 

Tubbo listens. He listens, and thanks Quackity for confiding in him. From then on, whenever somebody tries to take some of Quackity's tasks away, Tubbo almost seems to materialise next to them to distract them until he can make his getaway. 

His arm eventually gets better. George's anger lives in his thoughts, along with each and every one of his letters expecting him to come home.

Another day, another two - three - countless hours of reconnaissance. Wilbur is with him this time, and the both of them are sitting on a tree branch, as close to Manburg as they dare to go. Quackity remembers the sting of splashed poison, clinging to his arm, his shoulder - and tries his best to focus on the task at hand. A murmur to his left; Wilbur passes him the binoculars. Quackity can clearly see the blue stripes of Jack's hoodie, the bright amber of Fundy's fur. The two of them are walking over the hill where the white house used to be, the building he poured his heart and soul into. All that's left of it is what he remembers in his dreams. His dreams, which Schlatt still inhabits, beckoning him towards the plans for their shared nation - making them nothing but nightmares.

Wilbur shifts next to him. There's a leaf - green against the brown of his hair - that he hasn't noticed yet. Quackity knows he can tell Wilbur about his nightmares - he's done it once already. But with Niki gone, and a possible traitor still out there, he thinks Wilbur has enough on his mind.

He wants to tell him that it's going to be alright, but he doesn't like the idea of making a promise like that. No one can see the future.

He feels it when Wilbur tenses beside him, voice reduced to a harsh whisper: Fundy is walking dangerously close to Wilbur's hidden room, where the button to set off a devastating amount of tnt awaits. Quackity moves before he realises what he's doing, sliding down the tree trunk, ignoring Wilbur yelling for him to come back. Dashing past constructed buildings, all of them painfully familiar, he swallows down the bittersweet sense of homesickness as he rummages through his backpack - finally finding what he's looking for.

A glance back; Wilbur's climbing down the tree, but he won't reach him in time. Manburg can't be allowed to find the room. They can't be allowed to get their hands on such a supply of tnt, not if Pogtopia ever want a chance returning home again.

Quackity equips a firework to his crossbow - the loudest, largest one he has - and fires it into the sky. Wilbur's scream of his name is all but lost in the explosion.

(It's funny, how a single moment can take an eternity. He's not a fan of fireworks - hasn't been since the Festival. 

Techno's apologised since then, over and over, in the way that he helps Quackity with his farm, or brings him potatoes just when he's realising that he's forgotten to eat. It's in the way that Techno advises him when he's crafting something new, or how his silent company is a shield against his nightmares.

Techno is sorry. Quackity has forgiven him.)

His plan works.

Fundy and Jack come running at the sound of the firework, and Quackity can only hope that Wilbur is headed in the opposite direction. He offers the two of them a smile, ignoring Fundy's sword that's pointed his way as best as he can. Trying for a joke - he asks them to take him to their leader. Jack coughs to cover his smile.

Fundy nudges his shoulder, telling him to start walking. Quackity obliges, walking down streets that part of him knows, and part of him misses. Jack walks at the back, and Fundy leads the way, glancing back every so often to make sure he's still there. Quackity likes to think he understands Fundy. They did work side by side in Schlatt's government, after all, connected by their ambitions.

Fundy probably hoped to to become Vice President after he chose Pogtopia's side. He wonders if he hates that George was chosen instead. He thinks of Fundy's willingness when it came to tearing down L'manburg's walls - he was more eager than anyone to destroy what his father had built.

Quackity doesn't resent him for it. Maybe because he and Fundy aren't so different, because Schlatt offered both of them the power and recognition they so desperately wanted. But now that one of them has left Schlatt's side while the other still remains, it seems like Fundy wants it just that little bit more. Can't he see the destructive nature of this government, that hides behind Schlatt's decrees and lies? One day, it's going to tear everything apart. Even itself. 

Quackity hopes Fundy makes it out before that happens. He hopes they all do.

Jack, on the other hand... Quackity's lying if he says that he understand his motivations at all. He knows he was part of Wilbur's L'manburg, arriving not long after the battle for independence had been won. He remembers Jack, and he remembers jealousy, focused on all of the citizens of L'manburg - because they had something that he did not. They belonged to something. Only - when the time came for Schlatt's presidential reign to begin, Jack remained in Manburg. Most of L'manburg followed Wilbur to the cold Pogtopian caves, but not him. 

Unlike Quackity and Fundy, Jack didn't seem to be staying for the chance at power. He was like a feather, blowing wherever the wind decided to take him. Quackity can only guess his motives. Maybe he doesn't have any at all. He spares a glance behind him; Jack meets his gaze, smiling something pleasant and open. 

Fundy stops walking. Walls of iron stand before them, and through the open door Quackity can spy the purple gleam of reinforced obsidian walls. Fundy holds one arm out, clearly wanting him to go inside, and Quackity tries to catch his eye, to let him know that it's okay, he understands. But Fundy's gaze is fixed firmly to the floor.

He sighs, waving goodbye to Jack before he steps inside. 

Schlatt's grin is familiar. It's the one he has when he gets what he wants. It's the one Quackity sees when he falls asleep.

He welcomes Quackity with a cheer that doesn't settle quite right, ushering him into their bunker. Safety is important, after all. George is there, waiting for Quackity, like he has been since he left. His smile - his real smile - hurts more than the arrow he shot him with, and his voice is warm as he tells Quackity that he's glad he made the correct choice.

He takes great joy in the way the smiles slowly leave the pair's faces as he tells them that he isn't here to join them. He isn't as much of a fan when Schlatt begins to scowl - one he wore almost permanently after he discovered that Tubbo was a traitor. He doesn't like it, because the scowl leads to revenge, to planning an entire festival, to an execution. George's quiet disappointment is something he's learning to live with.

For a brief moment, he considers asking him if Niki is here, but he doesn't get the chance. They lock him inside the bunker, neither one of them giving any impression that they're planning on letting him out. It's okay though, because he's saved the day. Manburg don't have their tnt.

He hopes Tommy calls him a hero. Hopes that Wilbur writes songs about his brave and noble deeds. He's done okay, right? He chose the right side in the end.

Somebody lets him out, unlocking the door to let him escape. Only the click of the lock reaches his ears, and by the time he's short of breath, sprinting out of the door, there is no one else in sight. 

Fleeing Manburg is an almost nostalgic occasion. The first time he'd escaped, there was no destination in mind. It was pure luck that had Tommy listening in on his and Schlatt's argument, leading him to approach him afterwards. This time, he knows where he's going. Pogtopia might be cold and windy, but his friends are there. It's the only place he wants to be. 

As he's making his way home, he bumps into a group of people in a rush to leave it. He counts them all, heart swelling with each person he notices. Eret, first, trying their best to hide their concern. Karl right behind them, the glow of a strength-enhancing potion glimmering around him. Tubbo and Techno are darting forwards, grim determination on their faces - and Quackity's crossbow is slung over Tommy's shoulder. Wilbur follows them all, frantically trying to keep ahold on all of the items he's grabbed: pockets, stuffed with enderpearls, countless swords in his arms, and sticks of dynamite tucked under his arm. Quackity can smell redstone dust in the air.

Wilbur even crashes into Techno's back, not noticing why they've all stopped. His voice rings with worry - they need to keep moving! Quackity needs their help - 

Tentatively, Quackity smiles. Wilbur's face is one of shocks. He's in the middle of teling them that it's alright, Manburg didn't find the hidden room, when Wilbur throws aside the dynamite he's holding in favour of pulling Quackity into his arms. He clutches him close, and calls him an idiot - because in what world is he worth giving up just for some tnt? Tommy is at his shoulder, nodding furiously. Techno tells him very plainly never to do that again.

As the only one awake on guard duty, he notices when somebody tries to sneak in.

George waves hello. He's just come to get his book back, he says. Quackity doesn't mind, does he?

A memory: the fear of being discovered by Schlatt, back when he'd returned to Manburg to steal the book, hits Quackity with full force. He's risked everything for the information that book has to offer. Now George just gets waltz into Pogtopia, an easy smile on his face, and ask for it back? It's like he never pushed Quackity to spy for him. It's like he never splashed him with poison with the intention of making him - and Tubbo - hurt. It's like, merely a week ago, he never shot Quackity in the arm once he'd turned his back to leave. Quackity wonders if he's imagined it all. The way George is acting, either it never happened - or the more painful option: he doesn't care. Quackity's arm is still wrapped in bandages and he doesn't even care.

He tells him to leave, throwing George's own words back at him. He'll give him twenty seconds to get out of here before he sounds the alarm.

George's eyebrows rise - his surprise hidden away by his goggles. There is a moment, one terrible moment, where Quackity thinks he's reaching for one of his red arrows like he's going to strike him down - but it passes, and George sighs. He makes sure to let him know how disappointed in him he is, an then he's gone. Quackity has never been so glad to reach the number twenty in his life as he rouses Pogtopia into waking. 

Wilbur reaches him first, eyes searching the ravine for intruders, then Quackity for any signs of injury. Tubbo runs past him, Tommy mere footsteps behind, and they hurry up the steps that will lead them to the surface as they try to catch their intruder. Quackity notices his crossbow in Tommy's hands, and pride curls in his chest as Wilbur asks him repeatedly, frantically, if he's alright.

And this time - he thinks he is. He's alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay but why does the quackity-techno friendship i've written mean EVERYTHING to me. all these friendships are so precious, i can't -
> 
> lemme know what your favourite part was! mine has to be quackity giving tommy crossbow lessons. 
> 
> I always thrive off of feedback, and i hope you have a good day/night!!


End file.
